Believe
by Jareths-slave
Summary: It has been five years since Sarahs first adventure inside the Labyrinth, and her belief in magic has long since faded...Can someone show her all is not lost? Or is it too late?
1. Prologue: A Sad Sight

Prologue.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drip drip.  
  
Will that sound NEVER stop? Sarah thought, staring up at the plain white ceiling, counting the cracks that covered the cheap, dingy flat she was forced to live in. She drags herself out of the creaky, worn, single bed, and sleepily shuffles over to the bathroom to the noisy tap that had kept her awake. As she turns the handle to stop the insistent sound of dripping water, Sarah looks up into the small bathroom mirror, and is horrified at what she has become. "God, I look a state," She whispered, tears building in her sunken eyes, full of much grief and hurt for her age.  
  
Although Sarah was only 20, she looked tired and worn out, with her make-up- less face, her sad eyes, and her waist length hair, pulled loosely back in a French braid. It had come undone during her fitful dozing, and hung, limp and greasy, in scraggly patches down her back. Once a once young, beautiful girl gifted with the most amazing imagination, with bright thoughtful eyes, and a healthy rosy complexion was now no more than a lifeless shell, now pale from staying inside, but the saddest spectacle was her eyes. The brightness has long since dulled, and the pouring rain reflected in those brown hollow orbs. Something had died inside Sarah a long time ago, and it had left her desolate inside, bitter with the dark world around her, and worst of all. Dreamless.  
  
Disgusted with what she saw reflected, she tore her eyes from the harsh reminder of the failure she had become, and picking up the porcelain soup dish, she hurled it at the mirror, a scream muffled by strangled sob erupting from her throat. The mirror cracked in several places, distorting her image, bringing her some comfort, but not enough to ease the turmoil had been building inside her for the past 5 years. The tears that had been building finally fell, streaking tracks down her cheeks, and dripping off her chin onto the cold tiled floor. Sarah slumps to the floor, curls her legs to her chest, and quietly weeps into her hands. She cried for the mess she had become, the family she no longer had, the dreams that had been ripped from her when she had to choose between them and Toby. There was no competition. She had given up her fantasy, and the man she did and continues to love for him already, so what was a tiny bit more of herself. Anyway, Toby was always worth it.  
  
It was well past nine in the morning by the time Sarah woke up, aches covering her body from the uncomfortable position she slept in, eyes dry from the tears the night before, and a morning-after worthy headache. Disoriented because of her unusual resting place, she bizarrely thought for a moment that she might be dead. Is it even possible to die from unhappiness? She briefly thought, but the twinges in her spine and legs, and the pounding headache brought reality crashing back down, and solemnly remembering the previous night, Sarah found herself almost disappointed that her first thought had not been true. 


	2. Chapter 1: A Close Call

Chapter 1 Pulling herself from the floor, she opened the bathroom cabinet, minding the smashed mirror on the front, took two paracetamol and moved from the bathroom back into her small bedroom and turned to her bedside table to check the time. She saw it was already ten o'clock, and let out a hopeless sigh as she realized that she had completely forgotten about work for the third time that week. The only positive thing was that being the only worker and the owner of her small country-lane book, art and craft shop, she needn't worry much about turning up late.  
  
She made her career out of selling books, based on mythological fiction, fantasy, and anything else not of this reality. This, combined with a small section for figurines molded and painted by Sarah' skilled hand, and another section dedicated to all mediums of the Art world, brought in a small fortune every month. This small shop, paid for out of the money left to Sarah in her father' will, had become not only her safe haven, an escape from the world outside, but a constant reminder of the thirteen hours she spent living her childhood fantasy in the Labyrinth, which now seemed so very long ago.  
  
The small shop was originally a small country cottage, but had been re-designed inside to cater for a small store. All the original wooden beams still adorned the ceiling, and the thatching still sloped the roof outside. Flowers of all colours lined the windowsills in bright, hand-painted pots, and the overall feel of the place was one of love, warmth and security. The sign hanging outside the shop door welcomed all customers into "The Labyrinth," and hoped that they'd "Enjoy their adventures into the world of fantasy." The readers would recognize all of the subjects that Sarah used when creating her figurines, as each and every character that stood 6" off the ground, were all creatures great and small from the Underground. Each figure was created with exceptional detail, with not one alteration in clothing or colour.

There were hundreds all together, from Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus to the twin Guards at the entrance to the Shaft of Helping Hands, and the Fireys striking wild poses, all with attachable limbs. The one figure, however, which did not grace the others with his presence, was that of the Goblin King himself. Jareth was the only one not among Sarah' encounters dotted upon the shelf, but the bare spot in the center of all the figures, suggests that he may have stood there at one time or another. The reason for his re-location is un-known. All these magical items still remained behind steel shutters at ten o'clock this very morning, but Sarah seemed to brighten at the prospect of visiting her refuge today.  
  
Grumbling about stupid broken alarm clocks, and unlucky weeks, Sarah sleepily shed her clothes, and stepped back into the bathroom for a much needed shower. Standing under the warm spray, she felt the troubles of yesterday' memories slowly drain away. As the warm spray soothingly washes over her body, Sarah' eyes begin to drop, overcome with the exhaustion of not only the night before, but also the life that she had been living for so long now. The shower gel she had been holding slowly fell from her hand, and the dull 'Thud' as it hit the bath seemed to echo loudly, awaking Sarah from her daze. Her eyes snapped open to stare at the culprit that awaken her, but as she began to look down, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, a dark shape move from behind the shower curtain. A human shape.  
  
The shadow almost floated from one end of the bathroom to the other, seeming oblivious to Sarah' presence, once or twice even brushing against the shower curtain itself. On closer inspection, Sarah would have noticed that this shape appeared to be female, slender in build and petite in stature, with a curious air surrounding her, apparently searching for something that she believed was in the bathroom. Although this presence did not seem threatening in anyway Sarah froze, terrified, totally silent apart from the rapid beating of her heart. I'm going to die, oh god I'm going to die, She frantically thought, beginning to go light headed from holding her breath. She quietly let out her breath, and squeezed her eyes closed, hoping that she was hallucinating, but when she re-opened them, the figure was still there, standing with her back towards Sarah, as though contemplating something. With her gaze unwavering, her left hand reached toward the curtain, and with her finger trembling with fear as the tips of her finger lightly touched the curtain, she readied herself to tear it aside to confront the rogue who had invaded her home.  
  
Sarah looked directly at the figures head, almost willing them to turn around, "I'll beat them to death with a shampoo bottle if I have to," she reasoned, trying desperately to calm her nerves. As that thought popped into her head, the shadowed figure' head lifted slightly, and they turned, almost languidly toward Sarah, the whole gesture of the person screamed amusement, as though they had heard exactly what she had been considering. At the same moment, her body jerked, as the adrenaline finally kicked in and her fingers grasped the shower curtain tightly and ripped it aside.  
  
Only to be greeted by a gentle breeze and a familiar scent of magic in the air.


End file.
